


I Dream of Halcyon Days

by Kuroishuuha



Category: Gintama
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Joui4 - Freeform, yorozuya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroishuuha/pseuds/Kuroishuuha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gintoki was a demon before he was human. Shoyou helped him learn to be a child. Now Shoyou was gone. If he can't save Shoyou, he will protect the country Shoyou loved so much. And he did. Thanks to Gintoki and his comrades, the Samurai won the war. This is the story after...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Gintama nor any of its characters.  
> This is a canon divergence so the story line is changed somewhat significantly.  
> Most characters will still appear but the manner in which they are introduced are subject to change.

 Beneath the dark sky lies a wasteland of war and death. Smoke, black and heavy, covers the land far and wide as the stench of decay and burning flesh permeates the once crisp air. Despite the heaviness in the atmosphere, the night is not silent. The shrill cry of steel cuts through the night as distant explosions echo all around. Four figures rush through the battlefield and carve their way through the enemy’s defenses. They are young, barely out of adolescence and not even on their way into adulthood, but their faces are set in grim determination, aging them decades. Beneath their feet the ground is slick and muddy, but rain hasn’t fallen in weeks. It is the blood of the dead and wounded that creates an endless river of crimson. The pleas of the dying, the moans of the wounded, and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground clash with the sharpness of the fierce battle, creating a cacophony of chaos. Amongst the sea of dark figures, a lone figure was clad in white. With his shining silver hair, his sword gleaming even in the moonless sky, and his white robes stained crimson, he truly had the appearance of a demon. His appearance alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of those who glimpsed him. A nearby Amanto commander caught sight of the figure and the icy cold twinge of fear filled his veins, freezing his heart for a moment. Unable to do anything but watch as the white demon cleaved through bodies, the Amanto commander soon made up his mind.

* * *

 

“It’s Shiroyasha! Retreat! Retreat! Leave the wounded and the dead and fall back! Run for your li-” The Amanto paused and stared in confusion at the site of his own body, standing still on the battlefield, headless. Grey eyes blinked and widened in fear and horror as the realization sunk in before dulling over as death claimed yet another soul. The other Amanto, frozen in fear stood no chance against the ruthless demon and his companions. They were cut down as easily as stalks of rice during the harvest.

* * *

 

Just as the sun was beginning to rise, the last Amanto was struck down, and his eyes dulled over in death before the sun broke over the horizon. The samurai stood in shocked silence for a single moment before cheers rose from every breathing person...except one. The lone white clad figure merely stared and the field of death; his eyes were filled with a deep sadness as he mourned the lives of those he was unable to save.

 It was a funny thing to see...a demon showing sadness, but the demon had long since made up his mind. Even if he has to stand alone, even if he has to become the enemy of the heavens, even if the world branded him a demon, he would continue forward...to save _that_ man and protect the things he held dear.

Up in the brightening skies above, the crows began to circle, eager to feast on the fresh corpses.

* * *

How many had he failed to save? How many mothers and fathers will mourn their sons? How many sons and daughters will mourn their father? How many wives mourn their husband? And how many promises of return will go forever unfulfilled?

 

_A hundred? Two hundred?_

 

* * *

 It was easy to lose himself to the rhythm of battle, to cut down body after body. He does not stay his hand. He shows no mercy to those who would seek to harm those he holds dear; he has long since buried the ability to show remorse for those who die by his sword (later, when years have passed, when the burning rage of the battlefield has cooled, and when he has time to truly grieve, he will mourn for every life taken and lost). But until that moment arrives, he is still a demon on the battlefield, crying to the heavens who do not answer.

* * *

“Banzai! Sakamoto-sama! Takasugi-sama! Katsura-sama! Shiroyasha-sama! Banzai!”

 

“Banzai!”

 

“Banzai!”

 

As the cries of joy and relief spread through every soldier, the white demon stood in silence. How much of a demon had he become that his own allies refer to him by his monicker rather than his given name?

 

_My name is Gintoki! Please...anyone...anyone...before I forget myself! Call my name!_

 

A warm hand startles him from the suffocating darkness of his thoughts. It is only the familiarity of the voice that stays his hand, “Gintoki...it’s time to head back to camp”

 

“Yeah”

 

As the two begin their trek, black feathers fall as a soft chime sounds

* * *

 

 

 

**Have you heard the story?**

**The story of the corpse-eating demon,**

**The wandering samurai who sought to kill it,**

**But instead reached out a hand to the child underneath,**

**And their tragedy…?**

 

**This is how it all began….**

* * *

The afternoon air was humid and rippled with heat; the slight breeze brought little relief to those who were unfortunate enough to be caught outside in the unbearably hot weather. What once would have been a minor annoyance had escalated to something akin to torture as the scorching heat carried the stench of rotting corpses and decaying fields. The caws of the crows was now an endless echo as the black feathered creatures gorged themselves on the dead and dying. When night fell, the wild animals, starved of prey would carry with them the remains of the corpses the crows had yet to devour.

Village crops were left to die, either from the heat of the sun or from being unattended. The men who once worked the fields had put down their sickles and picked up a sword. Women and children scarcely left their homes, too terrified to be out in the open where the war was.

But it did little to help stave off the horror and grief when their men were returned to them.

Some were returned as cold corpses while others were forced to find the heads of their loved ones along the river banks. And some...some only had a cold piece of steel handed to them, the bodies either too destroyed or never found.

And as sons ventured away from the village, with their father’s sword clutched in their too small hands and vengeance in their hearts, brothers turned against each other, hoping to bring an end to the fighting.

Many left and few returned alive...

Those who did return did so to empty houses and burned villages…

With the able bodied men gone, the villages were left defenseless against the Amanto raids. The few men left in the village were either too old or too young. The young boys, barely on the cusp of adolescence were mercilessly slaughtered while the young girls were sold off to the brothels run by the Amanto. Females past adolescence were taken and never heard from again. With the village devoid of life and a future, the elders ended burned the village and themselves with it.

Upon seeing the desolate and scorched remains of their homes, the men left once again, hearts heavy with anger and hatred. 

They fought

_And fought_

_And fought_

**_And fought_ **

 

They died

_And died_

_And died_

**_And died_ **

 

Death and despair were the only two constants in life

 

The crows filled the sky with an endless black

 

Truly...hell had come to Earth

* * *

 

**Haven’t you heard?**

**Only demons thrive in hell**

* * *

A child sits atop a pile of corpses and bites into a riceball; it is cold and slimy, but he pays no heed to the stale taste, long used to eating rotting food. He pays no mind to the stench of rotting bodies and the cries of the crows as they feast on the corpses. Minding little of the difference in appearance, the black feathered beings eagerly carve their beaks into the softening flesh.

 

Amanto

 

Human

 

To the crows flesh was flesh, and a meal was always welcome (but the crows have begun to gorge themselves too much; already some of the back birds were having trouble flying, their bodies too fat and large for their slender wings to support).

 

As the silver haired child takes another bite of the riceball, he takes a moment to reminisce...

 

_The ground was littered with corpses. Some were still warm, gurgling with the dying echoes of a doomed man. Others had long since been ripped apart by the crows._

 

_A small child walks through the garden of death. He is used to this routine and heads for the fresh bodies. He ignores the dying gurgles and raspy pleas for help as he begins his scavenge. It takes him mere moments to strip the corpse of its supplies. He then makes his way through other corpses, taking only what he needs. There would be plenty of other chances for him to replenish his supplies. As he digs through the supplies of yet another corpse, the child makes a small noise of triumph as he pulls out a half-eaten riceball. It has been days since his last meal, so he savors the meager meal. He had long since given up his hesitation on pillaging from corpses. At first he had been repulsed by the idea of desecrating the dead, but as he grew weaker from hunger and as his own meager resources were taken from him, he made up his mind: the dead had no need for supplies._

 

_And as the danger grew, as others grew more desperate for survival and began attacking others, the silver haired child picked up a sword, and stained his world with red._

 

It didn’t take long for the rumors to spread.

 

The rumors of a corpse-eating demon.

 

And like all rumors, the longer it went on, the further from the truth it deviated

 

_A child sits among the corpses and eats his meals_

 

_A ghostly child sits among a sea of corpses and eats his meal_

 

_A pale creature of the night steals from the corpses to feed his hunger_

 

_A monstrous being hunts amongst the corpses to sate his hunger_

 

_A demon feeds on the corpses and uses their bodies as his seat_

 

A young swordsman, hearing the rumors, seeks to slay the demon to bring a sense of momentary peace to the people.

 

But when he succeeds in finding the demon, he is surprised to see a child instead…

* * *

 

A lone child sits on a pile of corpses as he devours a riceball, the stench of rot and the cries of the crows are an ever constant combination. The only color in his monochrome world is the bright crimson of blood. As he lifts the riceball to take another bite, a hand settles on his head. When he glances up he sees a man, eye covered by the bangs of his hair and a strange expression on his face (later he would learn that it is called a smile).

“I came after hearing of a corpse-eating demon...would that be you? A rather cute demon..”

The child pushes the man’s hand away and jumps back, glaring at the unknown danger in front of him. He draws the sword (stolen from a corpse) and points it at the man. The sword seems much too large for his small body. It is covered in blood and has cracked edges, but it is still a sword nonetheless.

“Did you also take than from a corpse?”

The child gives no reply save for the tongue that licks a stray grain of rice from his lips.

The man gives another twitch, face full of something the child cannot name (later he would learn that it is called sadness, and would learn to recognize in the faces of others).

“A single child stripping corpses in order to protect himself, is it?” There is a moment of silence before the man speaks again, “that is a very impressive; however, you no longer need that sword.”

The child is wary as he stares at the man; a bead of sweat falls down his face. He flinches as the man grabs the sword at his hip, “A sword swung in self-defense while in fear of others should be thrown away.” The man holds his sword tightly, making the child grow more anxious. The man throws his sword at the startled child who catches it on instinct before stumbling under the weight. The sword was heavy. “I shall give you my sword. It you wish to wield it properly, come with me.” With that the man begins to walk away.

The child stares for a moment, his crimson eyes following the man’s back. As his small hands touch his head, he remembers the warmth of the man’s hand. Having felt the warmth of another human being (not the warm blood of those he killed, but the warmth of a living person), and wanting to experience it once again, the child runs after the man.

Hearing the running footsteps behind him, the man pauses and turns to face the child.

He stretches out a hand and smiles when a small one is placed in it.

* * *

The man and child walk in silence for a while before the man turns to the child, “My name is Yoshida Shoyou, what is your name?”

The child pauses and thinks for a moment. It had been a long time since he had the chance to talk with another being that wasn't trying to kill him, so it comes as no surprise that he draws a blank.

“...Forgot...demon…” His voice is soft and hesitant, as if learning to speak for the first time, but Shoyou is able to decipher the meaning behind those two words.

_I forgot, but the people call me demon_

Shoyou laughs and the boy is surprised by the pleasantness of it, “That won’t do; a cute child such as yourself deserves a name.”

* * *

The child stumbles, but before he can fall Shoyou lifts him up and places him against his back. The silence carriers on…

As the sun begins to set and the moon is a wispy glimmer in the darkening sky, Shoyou is hit with inspiration, “Gintoki”

There is a small murmur of confusion so Shoyou elaborates, “Your shining silver hair reflects your shimmering soul, and a soul, when properly protected in untouched by time...and as for your surname…” Shoyo glances around and catches sight of a field of rice, “Sakata…”

“...why…?”

Shoyou hummed and smiled, “Who knows?”

Sakata Gintoki buries his flushed face into Shoyou’s neck, a small smile formed on his lips, “...thank...you…”

Shoyou laughs and Gintoki savors the sound.

Shoyou is Warm. Shoyou is Kind.

He wonders what the fluttering in his heart is (the love of a father his mind whispers)

* * *

Gintoki craves the warmth (love) Shoyou gives. It is a pleasant feeling that chases away the cold twinge of fear and loneliness. Little by little, the ice melts away to reveal more of the child hidden underneath. A child with crimson eyes filled with so much pain and loneliness, filled with fear and sadness, and a wisdom beyond his years whose soul shines as brightly as his silver hair.

He learns how to read

How to speak in full sentences once again

And gradually he learns that lips turned upward are curved in a ‘smile’ and lips turned downward are curved in a ‘frown’

He learns that tears mean sadness, but can also mean happiness

He learns to differentiate the times when a person is crying and when a person is laughing

It is a nice change...learning to live rather than to exist (that is another thing he learns, the difference between someone who is living life and someone who is a living existence).

* * *

His sleepless night are reflected in the dark bruises under his eyes and the tightening of his hands on the sword, but warm hands, soothing words, and a gentle embrace chase the sleepless nights away… 

When he sleeps, he dreams, and when he dreams he dreams of his life before Shoyou. But the warm hands, soothing words, and gentle embraces continue and eventually his nightmares die down.

* * *

 

Gintoki has learned of sweets.

Shoyou introduced them to him; they are different. They do not provide much nutrition and eating too many of them causes his teeth and stomach to ache. But Shoyou has given them to him, so even if his tongue curls away at first, he grows to love them because Shoyou has presented them to him and they provide a sense of comfort and happiness. 

Years later, when his colorful world has turned an endless grey, he would use sweets not as a method to comfort himself but as a method to wash out the taste of blood (and even more years later, when the taste of blood still lingers in his mouth he would continue his habit of using sweets to chase away the acrid taste of iron).

* * *

 

There are more children around; he likes to avoid them by climbing onto his trees. They cause too much noise and gather too close. But since Shoyou has brought them under his wing, Gintoki would love the children too (he doesn’t realize when obligation becomes genuine), so he climbs his trees to watch over them more easily (later, when the embers cool, he realizes that he can’t hold them close enough).

Gintoki wants to be like Shoyou: Warm and Kind

* * *

 

Fire is neither warm nor kind.

It is hot and angry.

The ash and flames hurt his eyes and cause tears to form.

No, that is a lie…

It is seeing the back of Shoyou grow smaller (Shoyou who is Warm and Kind), and being unable to follow that causes the tears to form. The rods hurt, they force out the air in his lungs, but that pain is nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

It’s too hot.

He can’t breathe.

 

_Don’t take him away!_

 

_Please!_

 

_Take me instead!_

 

_Come Back!_

 

_Don't take him away!_

 

_PLEASE!_

 

He wants to beg but no sound will come out.

 

“SHOYOU-SENSEI!!!”

 

_Don’t take away my father!_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gintama**

**A/N: Please continue to bear with me as I rewrite this story. It is slow going and especially with my lack of time due to school.**

The morning sky is colored a pale grey as the sun remains mostly hidden in the horizon. Only the barest hint of scarlet is visible. The air is crisp with the scent of winter as frost covers the ground. White and icy fern like patterns paint the dirt. The small fire they had set up the night before has long since died out. Despite the cold, the morning is peaceful. Suddenly, a threadbare blanket is thrown across the clearing as crimson eyes snap open and a small body startles awake. Ragged breathing echoes loudly. Even with the chill in the air, it is much too warm. The sound of a crow’s cry echoes.

It is not the first time he finds himself startled from sleep.

Dark purple bruises hang from his eyes, a testament to his sleepless nights.

He can still feel the heat of the scorching flames and the cold metal against his throat. The sweet cloying scent of burning wood and the acrid smell of burning flesh will haunt him for as long as he lives ( _Years from now, when the war has long since ended, he will still close his eyes to steady his mind when looking at the burning flames. He will flinch when the embers fly and struggle not to cry out in fear)._ Despite the quiet morning he can still hear the screams of the children begging for help. Their young voices held so much fear and pain in them. As his body curls in on itself, and as his hands cover his ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise, he hears another voice. This one cuts him far deeper and much colder than any steel sword ever could.

_“Protect everyone for me”_

As he glances at the sleeping bodies next to him, Gintoki clenches his hands. They are at once too large and too small; a testament of a young body on the border between adolescence and childhood. They are both clean and covered in filth, but he knows that soon, when he glances at his hands, he will only see dripping crimson ( _And when the years have passed, and his body has grown to match his hands…he will weep as his hands, painted in crimson, holds a weeping sword)._

* * *

Gintoki shivers as a cold breeze blows through the camp.

Winter has begun to settle, and it wouldn’t be long before the ground is covered in snow.

As he blows a tired sigh, Gintoki rises from the ground and heads towards the firepit where a small pile of wood lies next to the dead embers. With just a few quick motions, Gintoki has a small fire crackling. When the smell of burning wood hits his nose, Gintoki suppresses a shudder and muffles his gags as he desperately swallows the bile that threatens to rise. In his mind’s eye, he sees a roaring fire and hears screams of pain.

_“Protect everyone for me”_

_“Protect everyone for me”_

_“Protect everyone for-“_

A hand on his shoulder startles him from his thoughts, “Gintoki…”

A glance to his right reveals Katsura staring at him with a worried expression. A glance to his left reveals Takasugi staring at him with an impassive one, but underneath the cold expression was a hint of concern. Behind them were the surviving members of _Shouka Sonjuku.(Later, when the war is behind him, but also still so very close, he will close his eyes and see grave markers in place of the faces he sees now)_

Katsura opened his mouth, but closed it once again. He did this a few more times before taking a deep breath and voicing his thoughts, “What should we do? We aren’t going to last much longer like this. We- ”

A scoff and angry growl cuts Kastura off as Takasugi speaks up, “We can last however long we need to, we are Shoyou’s students and if you can’t make it then you are weak.”

Some of the others shiver and flinch at the cold tone, but nonetheless nod in agreement.

They _would_ survive. _(They were so naïve back then, weren’t they? When survival merely meant getting enough wood to keep warm and enough food to keep from starving.)_

Gintoki kicks dirt onto the flames, killing the fire. He kicks and stomps on the ground a few more times to hide any traces of a fire and bundles up the remaining wood before slinging the bundle onto his shoulders. “Pack up, we’re heading out.”

* * *

They travel for a while, gathering any scraps of wood and food they can get their hands on. Sometimes they find it in the wild, sometimes some villagers take pity on them, and sometimes they resort to looting abandoned villages. When the supplies run too low or dry for several days, Gintoki wanders off by himself at night and comes back with some supplies. No one asks him where he gets them. They can’t bring themselves to ask, not when they see him pale and shivering in the river as he desperately tries to wash his hand and ~~mouth~~ face. _(Corpses have supplies on them. They have rations and weapons, maybe even a map…but sometimes it isn’t enough…so sometimes he-)_

A month passes before they find themselves taking shelter from a winter storm at a small village. The villagers are poor, but they take pity on the children and allow them to spend a couple nights at the abandoned shrine. A small amount of cloth and wood is given to them; nothing special, but enough to make the colder winter chill a bit more bearable. They are even given some rice, but the meagre amount is hardly enough.

Gintoki decides to hungry.

It is nothing new. He has done it before and he could do it again. Gintoki repeats the thought as he tries to ignore the pain of hunger in his stomach.

When night falls, and the winter storm has slowed into a heavy snowfall, Gintoki stares at the glowing moon and wonders if Shoyou can see the same moon from his cell or if the bakufu has him in a place where no light can reach. It is a disheartening thought, but much better than the alternative.

_Sensei…are we staring at the same moon right now? Can my feelings reach you? If so, I want you to know that I lo-_

The muffled sound of footsteps breaks him from his thoughts as his crimson eye sharpen. They are narrowed in suspicion as his thoughts begin to race. The shrine is supposed to be abandoned and everyone is already inside and asleep. His fingers linger on his sheath, ready to draw his bade at a moment’s notice. The snow begins to pick up once again.

A male voice speaks up and questions the other figures, “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes, now hurry before they hear us. The Amanto will pay a great sum for these children, like they did with the others. I told you, killing all the villagers and selling the children would make us rich. The Amanto’s camp is near here, we just need to give them the children and then we will never have to see another brat again.”

Rage burns in Gintoki’s heart as hears the men whisper amongst themselves. He will not allow these men to leave tonight. At least not alive. From his position, he can see that there is a total of seven men. They are all armed, but the men are clearly just men with swords. They do not know how to wield one correctly. It would be easy to kill them ( _So, so easy…one, two…as easy as breathing. He has killed far more experienced men)._ His heart begins to pound as his eyes glow with an intense fury and protectiveness _(It_ _is this look that makes his eyes glow a deadly crimson, this look that stares his enemies down, and this look that earns him the moniker-)._

Shoyou entrusted the safety of their comrades to him. He will not fail a second time.

Then men’s eyes are alight with greed. Greed for money and survival.

Gintoki does not care.

These men are not his precious comrades, he does not love these men. Their lives do not matter to him. Only the lives that are sleeping in the temple behind him matter. Everyone else can go to hell. He does not care much for people, but the people he does care for, he will protect with his life. ( _This testament will hold true, even years later. Even as he smiles and laughs, even as he jokes with those around him…there will also be a deadness to his eyes and a hollowness to laughs when he is not smiling and laughing with those he has claimed as his.)_

A soft _clink_ sounds as he gets ready to fully unsheathe his blade.

The men have stopped moving; they have noticed that something is wrong. Their faces begin to show nervousness as they begin to draw their swords.

It is too late.

A flash of silver is the first thing the man in front sees before his head is detached from his body. Eyes blink in confusion before focusing on the blood covered silver child standing above a headless body. The head realizes it is his body and eyes widen in shock before growing dull. The other men don’t have time to scream before their throats are slashed. A few more heads tumble to the ground.

The wind picks up speed as the snow begins to fall heavily.

It was surprisingly easy to kill again…

* * *

Gintoki painstakingly drags the bodies and heads into the deeper parts of the forest. The scavengers would feast tonight. He doesn’t worry about the blood; the snow has already covered most of it by the time he has finished dragging the last body. As he goes to join his friends once again the words of the now dead men echo…

_“…_ _killing all the villagers and selling the children”_

He debates for a moment before making an annoyed sound. Even if these children do not hold a place in his heart ( _When he is staring down at yet another grave, Gintoki turns away to hide the devastation in his eyes)_ , he decides to help them…because Shoyou would help them and Gintoki wants to be like Shoyou.

* * *

It is ridiculously easy to find the Amanto’s hideaway. There are only five Amanto, but they are large and foreign to him. ( _It won’t be long before this strangeness and hesitance will seem like a distant memory)._ The Amanto speak in hushed whispers as they converse with one another. Gintoki could barely make out the words but the words he did catch seem important.

_Rebel faction_

_Joui_

_Overthrow bakufu_

_Prisoners held by bakufu_

_Possible rescue attempt_

Gintoki waits; he bides his time. It isn’t long before the Amanto fall asleep. He waits a few more moments before their breathing evens out. Now is the time to strike.

The Amanto have fallen asleep near the children. There are roughly ten children all stuck in a crude bamboo cage. It is more children then he anticipated. He hesitates for a moment before steeling his nerves. One of the children notice him. A young girl, probably no older than seven. She is on the verge of tears as she huddles near an older female. He makes a small motion with his hand and the child nods before going silent. He then makes another motion with his hands and the child seems to understand. She tugs on the sleeve of the older female and makes a small gesture towards Gintoki’s location. Gintoki another motion once more and motions for her to show the others. She nods. Slowly all the children close their eyes and clamp their ears tightly with their hands.

As he lifts his blade up, the silver of the metal gleams in the moonlight for a moment before red decorates the area around him.  The Amanto are dead…they never opened nor will ever open their eyes again…

As Gintoki opens the cage doors and helps the children out, the children stoicly ignore the dead bodies.

The sun is starting to rise by the time he and the children make it to the shrine.

The children want to come with them. They do not want to return to a village filled with strangers. The children and his friends turn to Gintoki for the decision ( _Always…always…there are eyes turned towards him…as if he could save them…as if he could-)._

He sees the tired look in his friends’ eyes and the haunted look in the children’s eyes and-

By the time the sun has fully risen in the morning sky, the now larger group of children are travelling down the road with their meager possessions in small bags.

The members of _Shouka Sonjuku_ never learned about the dead bodies ( _And years later, when old comrades sit and share stories, this one story will still have never been told)._

* * *

At the end of the month, they are barely surviving off scraps and wild plants. It will only be a matter of time before they die of hunger and exposure.

“What do we do Gintoki?”

Katsura and Takasugi ask him once again

The words of the Amanto echo in his head. For the first time in a long time hope flutters in his heart. He glances at the moon once again. It cements his decision.

With his crimson eyes glowing Gintoki turns to both Takasugi and Katsura and answers, “I want to go to war”

Katsura explodes, “Are you insane?! You are a child! Children do not belong in a war!”

Before he can stop himself Gintoki also responds with as much rage, “Children also don’t belong in hell, but what do you see?! Children die every day because of those Amanto! There is hardly enough food to survive for a day! The crows are too fat to fly because they have gorged themselves on dead bodies! Children don’t belong in hell but we are living it right now! I would rather war than hell!”

Katsura’s fist hits Gintoki on the cheek. It doesn’t hurt.

Katsura’s face is red from his outburst but Gintoki can see the genuine fear and concern in his friend’s eyes. Katsura is afraid of loving someone else close to him. Takasugi says nothing but Gintoki can see that Takasugi has already made his decision. ( _Always so ready to fight. Always so ready to prove himself…)_

“I want to rescue sensei…I overheard the amanto saying that the Joui were planning to rescue prisoners of the bakufu soon. If we join with them, then maybe we can get sensei back!”

Katsura’s eyes change, as if he were waiting to hear those words. They change from fear into determination. Takasugi makes a small sound of agreement but Gintoki can tell that Takasugi has begun to hope.

They nod at him…

* * *

He calls for a meeting.

The rest of the group look at him expectantly.

“The Amanto and Bakufu took something from each of us…”

“A brother”

A few of the children tear up as they remember their brothers being dragged off to prison camps or setting off to war. Either way they never came home. Their brothers never came home to protect them. Shouka Sonjuku go silent and pale. They remember seeing the ashes of their beloved building and not finding a body to bury. The smell of burnt flesh still lingered long after the fire finished burning.

“A friend”

Sniffles began to sound throughout the group as they remember their friends lying so still in the ~~coffin~~ in the barren ground. The sickly-sweet smell of flowers never seemed to leave. Shouka Sonjuku remembers the laughter of their friends as they turn into shrieks of pain and fear.

“A sensei”

The members of _Shouka Sonjuku_ straighten. Their eyes go dark as they remember that night.

_…a father_

Gintoki stands up and grips his sword as he begins to speak once again, “The Amanto came to our planet, our land, and took everything from us! They took our land, our crops, our sword, our identity, our trust in one another! They turned fathers against sons, mothers against daughters, friends against friends…they turned our own government against its people! We can no longer trust the government to protect us, we can only protect each other. We will fight and take back what is ours!”

Gintoki’s sword gleams and the cries of his friends echo…

_Wait for us sensei…we are coming to rescue you…_

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single choice can make the most difference

The sky was still dark and filled with stars when they rose to pack their meager belongings. The silence was heavy as they the truth and significance of the date hit them. The day had finally come _(In the years to come, he would come to regret this decision…he would sell his soul to an ant if he could go back to this day and scream at his younger self…this was a mistake…turn back…please!)._

Today…they would put away their wooden swords and hold cold steel in their hands _(The cold steel burns…it burns…)_

It was a terrifying thought _(It was a childish thought…who were they to think they were ready for war…)_

They would march to the nearest camp and enlist with the Rebels.

They would finally have the chance to avenge their loved ones and have the chance to save their beloved sensei _(Revenge…a word so easily spoken. They didn’t realize how great the burden was…that revenge is a double edged sword…for every life taken in vengeance, another will rise up, bearing the same grudge)._

Today…they would give up their wooden swords and take up the heavy steel swords _(Most of them have never wielded such a sword before in their lives…the weight of steel doesn’t compare to the burden of a life taken. Every drop of red that touches the blade…)_

* * *

The group travels in the cover of darkness _(What were they so scared of…looking back, it seems so silly)._

They are careful and tense as they avoid Amanto-ridden area _(Later…when the call of blood seems too strong, they would go and seek these areas. To make them bleed and cry just as they did to the others)._

The group makes their way through forests and mountains, avoiding villages and other people along the way _(Such an opportunity wasted…these people will never have their story told…because by the time the war ends, they will have returned to dust)._

They take the time to hone their skills and gather as much supplies as they can. Once they reach the war camp, they would not have as much time to gather more nor would they have the luxury of being treated immediately. Names of loved ones and lost ones are whispered every step. It helps calm their unsteady hearts and fuel their determination. _Yoshida Shoyou_ is one of the many names called during their trek. The members of _Shouka Sonjuku_ engrave his name into their hearts. They would be fearless. They dream of glory and of happiness when they can rescue their sensei _(What childish foolishness…if only they could go back to feeling like that…if only they could…)_

However, when they finally arrive at the camp, fear and doubt fills their hearts. The war camp is filled with only a few dozen men at the most. And of the meager number of men, many of them have grievous injuries. This camp would not last long…But they had come all this way, and the next nearest war camp could only be travelled to by going through Amanto territory.

Gintoki notices the fear and doubt and turns to give a reassuring look to his classmates. A rare smile, small and sad but filled with reassurance, graces his features.

_“It will be alright…” **(Liar)**_

Silence falls over the group of men when the rag tag group of children enters the camp grounds. Though they are well past the age of a child, to the jaded men, the group is filled children who do not deserve to see such bloodshed they are about to see _(At the time they didn’t understand…they didn’t understand that the men were fighting to prevent a situation such as this…when children were forced to fight)_.

Most of the children walk with uncertain steps as their eyes shift from campfire to campfire. Their hands tremble on their swords. The battle hardened and jaded men can see that the children are afraid; they carry with them a heaviness and small insanity that all the men have become familiar with…but a gleam of determination shines in their young eyes, so the men leave the group alone and allow them to pass to see the commander _(When history book write of the War…they will fail to include the memoirs of these men and the regret they continued to hold in their hearts for allowing children to participate in war)._

All except one make it clear that they have never wielded a sword to kill a living being.

The commander lets out a weary sigh once he notices this. He wants nothing more than to turn these children away and send them to their parents. Send them away to safety. But he knows. He knows that the children have nowhere else to go. He knows that there are no parents waiting for this group of children. He knows that they want something, and they want it enough to enter the bloody battlefield. He knows all this, but he still asks them what gives them the determination to enter a losing war with such determination.

_“We want to save the man who saved us first…we want to become students who can also carry their master’s burden”_

The commander wants nothing more than to shake some sense into these children; he wants nothing more than to help them see that their sensei is probably already dead or on his way to death, but the determination and fragile hope in their eyes stops him _(It is the words unsaid that could have had the biggest impact)._

Feeling like a monster, he lets them join and gets them outfitted into some armor.

By the next week he had them assigned into groups.

The week after that he takes them into battle and in the privacy of his own tent he chokes on his own bile as he recalls the horror filled eyes of the children as they see death and bloodshed for the first time. He is not new to death and bloodshed, but it is his first time subjugating children to the horror.

_The week after that, he watches stoically as the children bury their first fallen._

He feels like a monster…

But there is a person who feels like a demon _._

* * *

Gintoki hides himself away in his tent and refuses to face anyone _(Such precious time lost…back then, if he had known that he would never see some of those faces again, he would have…)_.

 He knows that no one blames him _(didn’t that make it all the worse?)_ , but that didn’t help the fact he blamed himself. It had been his idea to go to war, and now the death of one of his classmates weighs on his shoulders.

His guilt only grows as they bury another one from their group…this time it was one of the village children he had saved from the Amanto. The young girl died as she was gathering some supplies alongside the other younger children _(too young and small to wield a sword but unwilling to stand and sit idle)_. They hadn’t expected an Amanto to come so close to camp. It was her sister who found her dying body and the Amanto who had killed her. When the rest of the group arrived at the scene along with some older soldiers, the young girl was dead. She was being cradled in the arms of her older sister; the Amanto lay unmoving near them. His face had been bashed in with a rock _(Rage and grief is a powerful thing…)_. The older soldiers tried to take the small body away, but their attempts were met with snarls and tears.

The older sister killed herself the next day. The two siblings were buried under a beautiful tree with white flowers…the next day, the tree’s flowers had turned pink.

They found an apology note addressed to Gintoki the day after that.

_Gintoki-sama,_

_I remember when I first met you. My sister and I had been captured by the Amanto. We were both ready to accept our fate. Then you came into our lives. Like a shining knight from the tales in the West, you freed us from the bamboo cage and from the cage we had put ourselves in._

_When you invited us into your group, I had been apprehensive at first. I wondered if you would betray us like our fellow humans did, but you didn’t._

_You freed us and you took care of us._

_We who had no reason to live…_

_You took on this burden…_

_When we confronted you on this, away from the ears of others, you told us,_

_“Now that I have saved you, your life belongs to me.”_

_At that time, we thought you would work us until our death. That maybe you would sell our bodies to provide for your group._

_But you didn’t._

_You saved us…took care of us…_

_Then you gave us a reason to live and fight._

_I had never felt as much hope and determination in my life._

_I’m sorry I couldn’t support you until the end._

_I just couldn’t bear to live without my sister._

_I don’t blame you for her death or for mine. We both knew that we probably wouldn’t live to see the end of the war. We joined because we wanted to try and make out mark on history. To say that we defied the giants. I know that you blame yourself for the deaths of our group and I’m sorry that my death will be on your conscious. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry…_

_Thank you for all that you have done for us._

_I will be waiting to greet you in the next life._

_Hopefully not for a good many years…_

_Thank you…_

 .

.

.

.

.

“Why are you thanking me?”

* * *

He took his negative feelings out on the Amanto. He cut down dozens by the time other men cut down three.

It was a vicious cycle…

_Death, pain, guilt, anger, more death_

Even as more and more of the members of their group died, no one blamed him. It made his guilt worse. He wanted them to hate him; he wanted them to lash out at him; he wanted them to blame him! He wanted someone to hate him more than he hated himself!

Takasugi and Katsura along with the remaining members of their group, approached him and told him that they did not blame him. They had acceptance and kindness in their eyes. There was not a hint of hatred or lies. There was no accusation. There was only pure kindness and worry. He lashed out at them.

They let him scream at them until he no longer had the strength to scream. They approached closer once he had collapsed onto the ground gasping for air. They told him that even though it was his idea to go to war, it was their decision to follow. Everything that came after that fell on their own shoulders.

Gintoki closed his eyes and nodded…

They took that as his acceptance of the truth…

They were wrong

He only got better at hiding his guilt and pain

When people say that the happiest people with the biggest smiles are the best actors…they didn’t lie. Gintoki covered his guilt and pain with goofy smiles and lame jokes. He became a source of comfort for his comrades. A demon on the battlefield and a clown off it.

No one noticed his soul crying to be saved… _(Little Pierott…why do you cry? What painted a frown upon your face?)_

He feared the deaths of his loved ones. He feared being unable to fulfill his promise to Shoyou. He feared being a demon unable to protect anything. He turned his inner weakness into his power on the battlefield…

They called him “ _Shiroyasha_ ”

They would have to watch each other’s backs and make sure that they survived this war.

For a while it was the three of them leading the charge, and for a while there was a sense of peace. Takasugi and Gintoki would constantly get into arguments and brawls as Katsura would try and calm them down but end up getting dragged into their fights by the end.

Then an idiot named Sakamoto Tatsuma arrived on a large ship, bringing supplies and men. The moral of the men were boosted. It had been a long time since they had fresh supplies and fresh men. Sakamoto Tatsuma stood proudly at the helm of the ship and looked to be calm and confident. Once he stepped off the ship, he seemed to mock Gintoki and Takasugi’s quarrel with laughter. When Gintoki turned to confront Sakamoto about his attitude…

The idiot vomited in his face…

The illusion of a calm and composed man was shattered and replaced with a man who was prone to motion sickness and had a laugh that grated on one’s ears.

The trio became a quartet

Soon all four became well known throughout the nation as war heroes. They could barely be considered men, yet they tore through the battlefield.

_Nobleman of Fury: Kotarou Katsura_

_The Dragon of Katsurahama: Sakamoto Tatsuma_

_Leader of Kiheitai: Takasugi Shinsuke_

_The White Demon: ~~Sakata Gintoki~~ Shiroyasha_

When the Amanto saw one of these men on the battlefield they would tremble in fear, however it was when they saw the four men together that the Amanto would immediately surrender. They knew better than to fight a coming storm.

For a while it seemed that the Samurai would win. They were steadily winning more battles and were gaining more support. They had even managed to regain some of their lands. Hope began to blossom in the hearts…

Then the Bakufu intervened.

The prisoner release arrangement had been a trap.

The Bakufu had agreed to release the prisoner to the students of the prisoners. _The students of Yoshida Shoyou._ When they arrived at the meeting location, they had been ambushed by the _Tendoshu_.

* * *

Gintoki glanced around the area and weighed his choices. The _Tendoshu_ had agreed to release the rest of the prisoners and his friends, a deal to good to be true…

(It was)

On the condition that Gintoki behead his beloved sensei.

_“Gintoki, don’t do it!”_

At the time, Gintoki couldn’t tell which one of his friends yelled, but he would later recognize the voice to be Takasugi _(Young Takasugi…so willing and ready to fight. Young Takasugi who loved sensei almost as much as Gintoki)_. Both Katsura and Takasugi were restrained on the floor.

They would not survive if they tried to escape with Shoyou and the rest of the prisoners.

They would either all die here, or he would kill Shoyou.

In the end it all came down to him.

Try and protect everyone and lose everyone…

Or…

Kill his beloved sensei and save the remaining people…

His heart ached at the thought. He had no desire to lose his precious friends and be the cause of the death of dozens of soldiers. But more than anything he had no desire to kill the man who loved him and raised him.

_“Gintoki…protect everyone for me…it’s a promise, okay?”_

He unsheathed his sword and stepped forward.

Takasugi and Katsura screamed behind him. They begged him not to do it. He ignored their voices and continued walking. His hands were surprisingly steady as he held the sword gifted to him by Shoyou.

_He raised his sword…_

Takasugi and Katsura were screaming more desperately at him. They were crying. He could tell from their choked voices. He blocked out the sound of their desperation and focused on the man in front of him. Yoshida Shoyou had his back turned towards him, facing the horizon.

He was grateful that he wouldn’t have to look into the eyes of the man he was about to kill. He was grateful he wouldn’t have to look his-

_He swung his sword…_

Yoshida Shoyou turned his head and smiled…

“Thank you…”

Gintoki’s eyes widened. He tried to stop his sword, but it was already too late. Crimson filled his vision and stained his clothes.

_Thump!_

Yoshida Shoyou’s head was separated from his body…

There was a shocked silence from both his friends and the Tendoshu. Neither side had expected him to go through and kill his sensei. They were expecting him to lash out and try to save Shoyou. They were ready to counteract an attack. They weren’t ready to lose their bargaining chip.

Takasugi glared at Gintoki with hatred in his eyes.

He leapt up in an attempt to attack the crimson stained man, but fell to the ground with a choked cry of pain as his eye was viciously cut.

He was prepared to curse Gintoki for all eternity.

 He was prepared to hate him.

He was prepared to sever all ties he had with him…

He wasn’t prepared to see Gintoki crying as he stood over their sensei’s body.

That was the last thing Takasugi’s left eye saw before it was blinded forever.

* * *

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

_I’m sorry_

The phrase circled his thoughts unendingly, but he knew no matter how many times he apologized, God would never forgive a demon like him. Only a demon could murder the man who had taken him in and loved him. Only a demon would stand with his sword stained with blood. A sword gifted to him by the man he had just killed. Only a demon would wear clothes stained by the blood of his most beloved person…

That’s what he was…

A demon clad in bloodied white

* * *

He doesn’t remember how they made it back to camp with the released prisoners in tow. He doesn’t remember the celebration they supposedly had. He doesn’t remember the congratulatory praises and the toasts in his honor. He doesn’t remember going back to his tent. He doesn’t bother to remember anything. When he wakes up the next morning, he feel cold and empty inside.

The fire that burned through him has turned into dying embers.

* * *

Takasugi and Katsura are silent. They do not lash out at him, but they do avoid him. It isn’t obvious, but he notices them changing their routines to avoid running into him. He catches their weary looks and the sadness in their eyes when he tries to approach them.

So, he stops…

He focuses on the battle…

He would have left the war as soon as he realized he had no reason to be in it anymore, but Shoyou’s words still ring in his head.

_“Protect everyone for me…”_

So Gintoki tries to protect everything that Shoyou held dear. He tries to protect the country Shoyou loved and the people in it. Even though Takasugi and Katsura may hate him, he still thinks of them as his close friends. He would protect them. Even if they cursed his name and wanted nothing to do with him he would protect them because if they died he would truly be left with nothing in this world.

Sakamoto is the only one who still interacts with him normally, but Gintoki knows that Sakamoto longs to leave the war, so he tells Sakamoto to go and catch the stars.

* * *

It’s the soft cat like footsteps that wake him.

Sakamoto bolts from his futon and listens carefully.

The footsteps lead away from camp.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Sakamoto follows the footsteps and pauses in surprise when he sees that it is Gintoki. Still curious, Sakamoto follows Gintoki in a forest clearing and hides behind a tree. He nearly blows his cover when Gintoki sits on the ground, and places the edge of his sword’s blade to he neck.

Gintoki never draws blood; he merely sits with his sword aimed at himself. He does this for several moments before he drops his sword and crumples to the ground. His body shakes with silent sobs and Sakamoto can only watch as his friend breaks down.

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry”_

Gintoki apologizes over and over to no one.

Sakamoto feels as if he is intruding on a private moment.

When Gintoki sheathes his sword and begins to walk back towards camp, Sakamoto waits for a moment before following him back.

Sakamoto never left for the stars as he originally planned.

He was too afraid that one day Gintoki would walk into the forest and never walk out of it. So, he stayed and watched over his friend. Every night he would listen for footsteps. When he heard none, he would sigh in relief and close his eyes. When he heard the soft cat like footsteps, he would bolt from the futon and grab a small medical bag before following Gintoki. Sakamoto knew that Gintoki hasn’t sliced himself yet, but the constant ‘what if’ followed him around.

They can never forget the tragedy of Shoyou’s death, but gradually Takasugi and Katsura approach Gintoki once more.

* * *

The tides have turned…

With Takasugi Shinsuke, Katsura Kotarou, Sakamoto Tatsuma, and Sakata Gintoki’s decision to lead the Joui War, the Amanto have been forced into a stalemate…

The next few battles would determine the victor and the loser…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past Arc is almost over, also I have a discord now since that seems to be the trend for PM on archive, once I figure it out I'll post the link


	4. Chapter 4

The storage was a decent sized room in a temple. Most of the residents of the temple had abandoned the grounds as soon was the war began. The only remaining one is an old monk who offers the soldiers his temple. There is a look on his face and a glimmer in his eyes that Gintoki cannot place. _(It isn’t until after the war that they notice that the shrine belongs to Hachiman, the Yawata no Kami)_

Gintoki sighed as he motioned the person next to him to make another note. Judging by the grim expression on his face, Gintoki knew that the same thought was going through their minds.

They were running low on supplies.

It would only be a matter of time their meagre supply runs dry. As it was, there was hardly enough food to feed all the soldiers. There were several times when it was necessary to rotate which soldiers ate and which one would go hungry.

Every day a larger amount of people joined the war. Many of those who joined were peasants who have never had any experience in combat. After hearing stories of the rebels winning more and more battles, many of the civilians mustered their courage and rose up to help defend their homeland. While some were able to offer up some of their land for supplies or as outposts, many were unable to offer anything except their bodies. The government had taken away their land and burned their crops once word reached their ears that the people were rising up.

At the rate their supplies were running out, the Amanto would win the war by default.

* * *

Gintoki sat at the small campfire. The orange light of the flames dances across his face, creating an eerie glow as shadows seemed to grow and shrink. He held his sword _(it was truly his, now that the previous owner of the sword was dead)._

He glanced at each of his comrades’ faces before letting out a weary sigh, “We need to get supplies. At the rate we’re going through them we won’t have enough to last another month.”

There were mumbled words of agreement.

Many of the men did not want to admit that they might lose the war because they ran out of supplies _(A war of attrition…kill their fighting spirit and what do they have?)_

They had already lost many of their men to death and weakness. Many of their men had grown weak due to the lack of food while others passed away due to their injuries becoming infected.

They desperately needed food and medicine…

They needed it fast.

* * *

Tightening his grip on his sword Gintoki brought out a map and placed it on the ground. At his actions, the men stopped their mumbling and gave their attention to the white clad soldier. Gintoki hardly ever planned battles, but when he did it usually resulted in a Pyrrhic victory _(Desperation and willing lives…)._

Usually his battles would obtain them land and supplies but it would also result in losing many of their men. Due to the risk in losing men, whenever he planned battles he would ask for volunteers; many who volunteered were men who had already lost their will to live or were already on the verge of death _(The Ghost Squad they called it…Men who had nothing more to live for…men who had already gazed into the abyss…let their lives mean something at the very least. And all the while, the demon sheds tears as he sends these men to die_.)

He rarely planned battles unless they were desperate for a win.

Gintoki motioned for one of the men to give him something to write with. A piece of charcoal was pressed into his hands.

“This is our location,” Gintoki marked a spot between two mountains.

“And this…,” Gintoki drew a circle where a large bay could be seen, “is where my Intel has told me a large cargo ship carrying supplies for the Amanto is being brought within the next week.”

There was excited mumbling.

Katsura leaned over the map and eagerly pointed out, “If we can get our hands on this ship it could turn the war in our favor!”

Takasugi nodded in agreement.

However, Sakamoto looked weary and asked the most important question, “What will the cost be to our numbers?”

At his question the excited murmurs died down. In their excitement they had forgotten that Gintoki’s plans usually required a large sacrifice.

Gintoki closed his eyes and sighed, “I don’t know…from what information I could gather, the ship is supposed to contain a large number of weapons and supplies provided by the Bakufu. There will be both Bakufu members and Amanto guarding the ship.”

_“It’s too big of a risk!”_

_“We can’t risk our men on a suicide mission like this!”_

_“This is ridiculous!”_

The Shiroyasha stood and glared at the men in front of him, “Does anyone have any other ideas to get the most amount of supplies in such a short time?!”

The flames seemed to dance in response to his anger.

The men looked away in shame _(Cowards in the face of death...)_

Katsura placed a hand on his shoulders and murmured softly, “Gintoki…it’s too big of a risk. I can’t allow my faction to take such a big risk. We must be brave, not foolish”

Takasugi and Sakamoto reluctantly nodded.

The other men gave mumbled words of agreement.

Gintoki scoffed, “You still can’t even look me in the eyes. Don’t talk to me about bravery”

And it was true.

While their relationship had gotten better, Takasugi and Katsura would still have trouble looking Gintoki in the eyes. Most times, they focused on the space behind him or didn’t bother to face him at all. Sakamoto on the other hand couldn’t face Gintoki because he knew that he couldn’t help Gintoki in such a huge risk. Not because he didn’t believe they could win, but because he feared the risk.

* * *

“Do you truly believe that this cargo ship can help us?”

Eyes turned to the speaker.

It was the commander _(an old man with a tired soul…too used to death and sacrifice)_

Gintoki nodded and spoke up, “This cargo ship will have the supplies that we desperately need. We won’t last another month. We may be equal in terms of numbers at this moment, but the Amanto have an advantage over supplies.”

The commander looked thoughtful before shaking his head sadly, “While I agree that this could help us tremendously, I also believe that the risk to our numbers would be too great. I can’t sacrifice our men for this. If numbers are all we have right now, we can’t afford to lose that.”

There was a heavy silence as the men turned their faces down _(Victory was so close, yet so far…how much longer must they listen to the beat of the drums of war?)_.

_“Protect everyone for me…”_

Ginktoki glanced at the moon and whispered, “Then would you be willing to sacrifice one?” _(Little demon…all too willing to die…too eager…)_

Heads snapped back up to glance with wide eyes at Gintoki who stared intently at the flames and spoke once again, “You said you couldn’t sacrifice your troops, but could you sacrifice one? If I were allowed to go retrieve the cargo ship by myself...would you be willing to sanction this as a mission?”

The commander looked thoughtful _(He closed his heart to the thought of sending another child to die)_.

After what seemed like several hours but was in fact only a few seconds, he nodded his approval.

“If you fail, there won’t be any retrieval team to come and save you”

Gintoki nodded grimly, his red eyes seemed to glow as his white robes rustled in the sudden wind.

* * *

Katsura and Takasugi avoided his gaze when his crimson eyes landed on them. They were ashamed to say that they were glad he offered to go by himself to get the cargo ship. They needed the supplies, but neither was willing to risk their lives to get it _(or maybe they were too scared? Would he turn his sword on them just as he did with sensei?)._

Sakamoto had a knowing look on his face, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about Gintoki’s decision. He could only hope that Gintoki made it back _(don’t die…don’t die…please don’t die…)_

Gintoki stood with a bag on his shoulders and his sword in his hand.

The commander came up to him and handed him a folded-up cloth.

“Hang this from the ship if you are successful.”

* * *

It took him two days of running to get to the location.

Clouds covered the moon and made it hard to see. He could only make out a vague outline. As if reading his thoughts, the clouds parted, and the silver light of the full moon illuminated the ship. He felt his eyes widen with the size and appearance of the ship.

The information had been wrong. It wasn’t just a cargo ship…

It was also a warship _(he couldn’t afford to fail…if that ship were to be used against them…)_

Currently it was docked, but he knew that the river the bay was connected to would be large enough to allow the ship to cross _(there was also the fact that the currents would carry the ship directly to them)_. There were more than a hundred Amanto around the ship and he knew that there were probably at least a hundred more in it. He didn’t even bother to count the Bakufu members that were also present.

If the ship made it to camp…

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

Gintoki closed his eyes and calmed his wildly beating heart.

_Four…_

_Five…_

_Six…_

He unsheathed his sword and grasped it tightly in his hands.

_Seven…_

_Eight…_

_Nine…_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Ten!_

His white robes fluttered behind him as the moon illuminated his ghostly features.

A shower of red erupted.

* * *

He was painted in crimson. Blood dripped from his clothing and poured from his wounds. As he took a step forward he slipped from the blood that flooded the ground and landed on his knees. He grimaced as the sudden motion aggravated his injuries. His body refused to move even as the Amanto gathered around him with their weapons raised.

A slight smile formed on his bloodied lips, “Finally…” _(The demon closes his eyes and waits to embrace death)_

He felt cold steel pierce his chest.

He coughed wetly.

His body felt disoriented.

He felt the warm blood leaving his body at the same time a cold feeling crept up his limbs.

His vision was a hazy crimson.

He felt himself fall.

The Amanto began to walk away laughing.

He felt his heart slow down and with it a sense of peace seemed to come over him. As if he finally found what he was searching for…

_Is this it…? Is it finally over? I tried right? Sensei…isn’t this enough? I tried to protect everyone…but in the end I ended up hurting them. Isn’t it better this way?_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_But I tried!_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_I tried, and I failed!_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Isn’t it enough?!_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Why are you haunting me like this sensei?_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Do you hate that I killed you?_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Do you hate that I couldn’t save you?_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

_Do you hate…me?_

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

“Is…is this my punishment? Is this God’s way of saying that I don’t deserve to be forgiven…? That I don’t deserve to rest?”

A dark chuckle escaped him as he wetly coughed out more of his blood.

**_“Gintoki protect everyone for me”_ **

“Alright, alright…”

Unable to ignore the words repeating itself, he forced himself up. He ignored how his body screamed in protest and ignored the tightness in chest.

* * *

The Amanto laughed amongst themselves from their position on the ship.

They had lost nearly all their members including the members of the Bakufu that accompanied them, but they got to boast that they killed the mighty Shiroyasha.

A cold and dark voiced pierced through the laughter, “Who killed who?”

At the sound of the dark voice the Amanto whipped their head around to find Gintoki dyed in red and holding onto the dead body of the commander of the ship.

There were shouts of disbelief, “We stabbed you in the chest! You died!”

Chuckling darkly, a self-deprecating smile formed on his lips, “I guess God doesn’t want to deal with a demon like me messing up his perfect paradise. I’ll have to settle for Yoshiwara after this.”

The dance of death began again…

* * *

The last body fell just as the morning sun began to rise from the east.

Forcing his body forward, Gintoki cut the anchors tying the ship to the harbor _(the demon, too lost in the haze of pain, didn’t notice Sumiyoshi Sanjin directly the ship to its location)_. He cut the flag containing the symbol of the Bakufu and hung the piece of cloth the commander had given him.

He glanced at the fluttering flag white and blue flag and a soft smile graced his lips.

The sun was shining brightly, and the wind was comforting.

Gintoki felt his world go black…

_Thump!_

* * *

A soldier on the lookout gasped in surprise and yelled for his superior, “Commander! Look!”

The shout gained the attention of all the soldiers. Coming up from the river was a large ship that bore their symbol. The flag fluttered in the wind; its white and blue color stood out against the dark wood of the ship. Screams of joy and amazement resounded through the camp.

“He did it!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“We’re going to live!”

When the ship made its way onto the riverbed, it came to a stop. There were bated breaths as everyone waited for Gintoki step down and greet them with a smirk like he usually did whenever he went on a mission by himself. They waited…

When no one came down a tense silence settled over the group.

Ignoring the warning from their commander, Katsura, Sakamoto, and Takasugi rushed towards the ship and didn’t waste any time climbing aboard. They halted in surprise and horror at the scene in front of them.

Gintoki was pale and motionless in a pool of blood.

And he wasn’t moving…

Everything that happened next was a blur to the three…

_“I need more bandages!”_

_“Where’s the hot water?!”_

_“Has anyone found the pain medication?!”_

_“You there! Hold him down! I don’t want him to wake up struggling!”_

_“He’s lost too much blood!”_

_“The bleeding won’t stop!”_

_“Support his head some more-“_

_“It…stopped…”_

There was an eerie silence at those words. All activity stopped and stared at the medic with wide unbelieving eyes. Gintoki lay on the cot, pale and unmoving. Blood-soaked bandages covered his entire frame. He seemed to just be resting after a battle…but something was wrong with the image...

His chest wasn’t moving.

“His heart…it stopped”

Katsura and Takasugi glared at the medic with enough force to make the man’s heart freeze for a moment, but it was their deathly silent whisper that cause the surrounding soldiers to shiver in fear, “Well then do something about it!”

The medic looked at them in disbelief and sadly shook his head, “I can’t bring the dead back…his heart has stopped. He’s dead.”

Katsura, Takasugi, and Sakamoto pushed the medic out of the way and gathered around Gintoki’s still body. While their faces betrayed nothing, their eyes spoke of pain and the beginnings of insanity _(They couldn’t lose him…they couldn’t..._ _Shouka Sonjuku couldn’r lose another member…)_

“Oi Gintoki…you’re not this weak…wake up!”

“Gintoki…a samurai shouldn’t sleep so much; it’s unhealthy. Open your eyes!”

“Ahahaha. Ahahaha…Kintoki, this isn’t the time for a nap, open your eyes and we’ll play Uno”

The medic watched on sadly.

The three’s voice became more insistent and soon they could hardly get out words at all.

In desperation, Sakamoto slammed his hands down on Gintoki’s chest and screamed, “Wake up Gintoki! It’s not the same without you!”

“Gintoki…please open your eyes”

“Gintoki…”

Sakamoto, Katsura, and Takasugi begged one last time…

And to everyone’s surprise red eyes fluttered open before a soft groan could be heard, “I thought I would finally see some heavenly maidens welcoming me to the afterlife and instead I see three idiots calling me back down to hell.”

* * *

News of Shiroyasha single handedly eliminating an entire force by himself spread through the land. Many of the Amanto who heard the news decided that taking over Earth wasn’t worth it if they were going to lose many of their troops to a demon. Others began to lose moral and left to go back to their home planets; they saw no point in fighting a losing war.

There were also some Amanto who saw the samurai’s determination and decided that they had no right to take someone’s home away from them and began to aid the samurai in expelling the other Amanto _(To some Amanto…war was war and it was more intriguing to fight alongside such beings that carried a strong fighting spirit in their hearts)_.

* * *

Two months after Gintoki’s single handed elimination of the Amanto troops, the Amanto signed a treaty of surrender.

The Amanto who were the main instigators of the war would leave Earth and never return. The Amanto who aided the samurai would be allowed to stay on Earth after they went through several questionings and screenings. They would become liaisons to space.

The traitorous Bakufu was taken out of power and a new one was created in its place.

A month after the war ended…Shiroyasha disappeared.

Only to reappear in an area known as Kabukichou as Sakata Gintoki, a fish-eyed man who carried around a wooden sword, was the lamest excuse of a man anyone had ever met, and owned a business he called…

Yoruzuya Gin-chan


End file.
